I have to go back to school in a New York minute (thankfully, though, not before I actually go to New York next week) and if I think about it for too long I start to have some kind of panic attack and I hover on the verge of an all out toddler temper tantrum.
I love summer.
I never, ever, want it to leave me.
As I laid in bed thinking about my dwindling break, I decided we were definitely making today a pool day and we were definitely inviting friends.We ended up there with my friend, the boys' best buddies and another one of Garrett's friends from school. And so, it was a gang of two twelve year olds, an eleven year old, a ten year old, a nine year old, and a partridge in a pear tree who masquerades as a two year old.
They played and swam and soaked up the sun and one of them pooped a big disaster into a swimmy diaper. After that mess, in which I tried to wash him off in a shower that actually felt like needles were piercing skin and he cried and cried and screamed, "Mommy, no more!" and I finally had to make it work with a few baby wipes, I dried him off and declared it a day.
I'd been told that my nine year old was doing flips off the tall springboard and I needed to see this for myself. I walked over to the diving pool with my toddler in my arms and my friend at my side. As we walked past the springboard, I saw one of the girls from Garrett's grade. She is one of the kindest and most beautiful girls. She's also a giant and my son is a shrimp. As a teacher, I adore her. I pointed her out to Garrett. "Oh!" he said, "Yeah." And then my barely twelve year old marched right over to her and said hello.
I was so proud of his friendliness.
"Oh! Hi Garrett!" she said and she walked toward him with an arm extended in what could only be interpreted as the beginning of a side hug. Just as she began to say, "Let me give you a hu---" he turned on his heels and walked back to his friends.
Oh. Man. Rejected.
She mumbled, "Nevermind..." and then vacated that particular pool immediately. Garrett walked back and I explained that he likely, without meaning to, had really embarrassed her. I knew he wasn't trying to be a jerk. I don't think he even knew she was going to hug him. But she clearly felt burned. It was so obvious to this former sixth grader.
I told him to find her and make small talk. "You don't have to hug her, but at least make sure she knows you're friends. Smooth it over, in case she thinks you were trying to be mean."
He and his friends found her and hers. They stood together for a few minutes. I don't know what was said, but it was a glimpse into my future. This future of cute girls and my son. And his buddies. Eventually he told her he was going to New York next week. He said, "I'm going to a Broadway show." Apparently she responded jokingly with, "What? I hate you!" and then she jumped in the pool.
As we got our stuff packed up, his best friend sat across from him while they both ate a few cookies. "She keeps looking at you."
"She does?" he asked.
"Yeah," his other friend said. "She's staring over here."
"Maybe she likes shorter men," I said. They all broke into laughter. On the way out, I heard the boys teasing each other about girls and I looked at my friend. "They were three. Do you remember that? They were JUST THREE."
My son has been 12 for a week. When I was 12 years and 9 days old, a boy asked me to "go out" with him. For a solid year we never actually went anywhere. We just ate lunch together and, on rare occasion, held sweaty hands. I told Garrett today that I was 12 when I first had a boyfriend. His eyes got huge. "Don't worry," I said. "I didn't kiss him or anything like that. We just held hands."
He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."
Phew.
Friday, July 27, 2018
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
It's a Scary World or I'm Crazy
We live in a scary world. I suppose that, since Adam and Eve's eviction from the Garden of Eden, people have lived afraid. Afraid of other tribes and nations. Afraid of madmen. Afraid of anyone who wields power over us. But this world is terrifying. Because, in this world, I spend some time in Costco and wonder if the creepy man who is following us is targeting us for sex trafficking.
I first noticed him when the boys and I were waiting in line for a sample. He was staring at me and I wondered if we'd cut in front of him accidentally. "Sorry!" I said, in case we had. He gestured, as if to say, "No worries." I thought nothing of it. We walked up and down the aisles looking for samples. It was a sad sample day at Costco--despite being there at 12:30--and we were sorely disappointed in our hunt. I noticed the man because he seemed to be in every aisle we were. It dawned on me that he seemed to be alone and he didn't have a cart. I was only there for the optical department and free samples though, so I didn't dwell on this fact.
As we made our way toward the deli section, I stopped and looked at furniture. How odd that this man also wanted to stop and look at furniture, just a few feet away from us. It was this moment that I went into something-is-weird-here-and-I-am-feeling-uncomfortable mode. Now, honestly, this whole entire thing MIGHT be a strange coincidence and I'm on hyper alert because of #metoo and sex trafficking and modern horror stories. MAYBE he was a perfectly normal gentleman and the events that unfolded were just happenstance. But either way, my intuition flared and I started trying to lose this guy. I walked back by the chickens. As I crossed aisles, I could see him at the other end of each one. He was never looking at us. He was always VERY engrossed in whatever item happened to be right where he was.
"Come on!" I hissed quietly to my boys and we took off abruptly back the way we came. I whispered to my kids that I really thought this guy was following us. I walked quickly to the front, glancing to my right often. There he was, across the store but still keeping pace with us. I darted down a couple aisles, circling back. I finally lost him. As I had nothing in my cart except Will, I pushed through the checkout quickly and got in line at the food counter because I'd promised the boys and because I was fairly sure that this was somehow all in my head still. As we stood in a LONG line, I swiveled my head to the right again. Here came my shadow.
He walked right up to us and got in line directly next to us. Now, at this point, I definitely thought something was up and intended to not leave Costco until I'd told someone and we were assured that we were all safe. I also decided to memorize everything I could about him. Gray shirt. Black pants. Brown shoes. About 5'11". Balding in a patch on the back. I couldn't describe his face because I hadn't stared directly at him ever and I couldn't see his face in line because he'd turned his head and was scanning the mothers and children sitting at the tables. I made sure he knew I was watching him though. Because I thought that if he knew that I knew he was following me, his plan--whatever that was--might be foiled.
Suddenly, after he'd waited in line for about three minutes, he turned and walked straight out the front door.
The man behind me in line immediately started talking to me about Will. He seemed nice and I engaged in conversation. We got our food and sat down. Eating Costco pizza with Will is a bit of a production and it took us a long time to finish lunch. It was weird to me--but then again I was on hyper alert--that the guy who'd talked to me in line was just sitting at a table near us, his food long finished.
At this point, I convinced myself that they were somehow working together. I had Garrett throw away the plates and we walked out ridiculously fast. I turned, as we all but sprinted out and saw the guy put his hat on and stand up immediately. I told both boys on the way out that if anyone tried to grab them in the parking lot to just start shrieking right away. Thankfully the van was close and there were a ton of people right by our car--women and children and the like. I had no groceries so I just tossed everyone in the van and locked the doors.
I saw the second man emerge from Costco. He didn't look around. He just walked to his vehicle. I have no idea if he was part of anything sketchy. For that matter, I don't know if the first guy was either. It was just a series of unfortunate events, perhaps.
But we live in a scary world. A world in which there is the possibility that it wasn't all in my head. I made triple sure I wasn't being followed as I drove away. Maybe they were the two nicest guys. Or maybe they weren't. It troubles me that I have to wonder.
I first noticed him when the boys and I were waiting in line for a sample. He was staring at me and I wondered if we'd cut in front of him accidentally. "Sorry!" I said, in case we had. He gestured, as if to say, "No worries." I thought nothing of it. We walked up and down the aisles looking for samples. It was a sad sample day at Costco--despite being there at 12:30--and we were sorely disappointed in our hunt. I noticed the man because he seemed to be in every aisle we were. It dawned on me that he seemed to be alone and he didn't have a cart. I was only there for the optical department and free samples though, so I didn't dwell on this fact.
As we made our way toward the deli section, I stopped and looked at furniture. How odd that this man also wanted to stop and look at furniture, just a few feet away from us. It was this moment that I went into something-is-weird-here-and-I-am-feeling-uncomfortable mode. Now, honestly, this whole entire thing MIGHT be a strange coincidence and I'm on hyper alert because of #metoo and sex trafficking and modern horror stories. MAYBE he was a perfectly normal gentleman and the events that unfolded were just happenstance. But either way, my intuition flared and I started trying to lose this guy. I walked back by the chickens. As I crossed aisles, I could see him at the other end of each one. He was never looking at us. He was always VERY engrossed in whatever item happened to be right where he was.
"Come on!" I hissed quietly to my boys and we took off abruptly back the way we came. I whispered to my kids that I really thought this guy was following us. I walked quickly to the front, glancing to my right often. There he was, across the store but still keeping pace with us. I darted down a couple aisles, circling back. I finally lost him. As I had nothing in my cart except Will, I pushed through the checkout quickly and got in line at the food counter because I'd promised the boys and because I was fairly sure that this was somehow all in my head still. As we stood in a LONG line, I swiveled my head to the right again. Here came my shadow.
He walked right up to us and got in line directly next to us. Now, at this point, I definitely thought something was up and intended to not leave Costco until I'd told someone and we were assured that we were all safe. I also decided to memorize everything I could about him. Gray shirt. Black pants. Brown shoes. About 5'11". Balding in a patch on the back. I couldn't describe his face because I hadn't stared directly at him ever and I couldn't see his face in line because he'd turned his head and was scanning the mothers and children sitting at the tables. I made sure he knew I was watching him though. Because I thought that if he knew that I knew he was following me, his plan--whatever that was--might be foiled.
Suddenly, after he'd waited in line for about three minutes, he turned and walked straight out the front door.
The man behind me in line immediately started talking to me about Will. He seemed nice and I engaged in conversation. We got our food and sat down. Eating Costco pizza with Will is a bit of a production and it took us a long time to finish lunch. It was weird to me--but then again I was on hyper alert--that the guy who'd talked to me in line was just sitting at a table near us, his food long finished.
At this point, I convinced myself that they were somehow working together. I had Garrett throw away the plates and we walked out ridiculously fast. I turned, as we all but sprinted out and saw the guy put his hat on and stand up immediately. I told both boys on the way out that if anyone tried to grab them in the parking lot to just start shrieking right away. Thankfully the van was close and there were a ton of people right by our car--women and children and the like. I had no groceries so I just tossed everyone in the van and locked the doors.
I saw the second man emerge from Costco. He didn't look around. He just walked to his vehicle. I have no idea if he was part of anything sketchy. For that matter, I don't know if the first guy was either. It was just a series of unfortunate events, perhaps.
But we live in a scary world. A world in which there is the possibility that it wasn't all in my head. I made triple sure I wasn't being followed as I drove away. Maybe they were the two nicest guys. Or maybe they weren't. It troubles me that I have to wonder.
Monday, July 23, 2018
To My Son Who Is Somehow Twelve
Dear Boy,
We're two thirds of the way to eighteen. I can pretty clearly remember when you turned six and I realized that you were one third of the way to eighteen and I momentarily freaked out a little. Maybe it's because I have your tornado toddler of a brother now and in some ways it feels like I'll be actively parenting for the rest of my life, but I'm not lamenting this twelve quite like I lamented six. Perhaps I've just given up on trying to keep you little. Or, perhaps, I'm looking forward, in some warped and demented way, to watching you become a man.
The eye rolling, looking at me like I'm a complete moron, phase of our relationship has begun. I don't love that, not gonna lie. However, I know a lot of preteen boys and, I'm not kidding when I say that I wouldn't trade you for a single one of them. Oh some of them are great, to be sure. It's just that none of them are you.
There are more athletic boys in the world. There are smarter ones and more talented ones. I don't say that to be mean. I say it because you have enough ego strength to handle it. You always have. You may not be the best baseball player and you may not set the curve on the math test but you are incredibly well rounded. And you are respectful and kind. This summer, in particular, I have had several people tell me what an amazing kid you are. People who meet you for an hour or hang out with you for half a day and then send me glowing messages about your maturity and your manners.
I recently received a compliment on my parenting (BY THE GRACE OF GOD ALONE, KID). I was told that we are doing a great job--that we are stricter than most but that's okay. I suppose, as I look around me, that that's true. I'm sure you don't enjoy being the kid who has the "stricter than most" parents. I hope, though, that some day, you look back on your life and appreciate the rules and the boundaries. I hope you are grateful that we do not allow disrespect or entitlement. I hope that you can find peace and joy in the fact that we ask you to try to live like Jesus did and that we try (and oh how we fail) to show that to you by example. And I hope that, under all that weight of strict parenting, you know that I see you.
When we were recently in the Redwoods, I was speaking to a volunteer ranger. It was hard to keep you and your brothers quiet. Will, because he's a maniac. You and Matt because your voices and your countenance were alive with the mystery and majesty of those giants. For dad and me, we feel silenced by the awe of those woody sentinels. But for you, there was adventure in every moment. I apologized to the ranger. "We're trying to keep them quiet--" I couldn't finish my sentence. He interrupted me.
"Why?" he interjected. "They can be quiet when they're old!"
His statement rocked this boymom. I try to let you live, to watch you climb trees because they are God's gift to boys, to allow you to be loud and assertive, to be rogue in this society of screens and quiet whispers. But I still find myself apologizing for my boisterous boys. No more. God gave me larger than life, noisy boys--and He started by giving me you. And you, my dearest one, can be quiet and contained when you are old. (Except when your teacher is talking. Please also be quiet when your teacher is talking.)
You have made me so proud. This year alone, as I sat in our end of the year assembly and heard your beautiful name so many times. Making it to Regionals in the science fair--you just kept doing extra work to make it ready for the next level. You and your dad sat and sat and worked and worked and fixed and fixed that project until you took it as far as you could and got second place at the highest level. You finished the 40 book challenge. You participated in Monster Math. You took second place in the geography bee, losing only to a sixth grader.
Beyond your academic accolades, your teacher told me, on so many occasions in the faculty room, what an amazing friend you had been to someone that day. You served on student council after having to interview for the position. Outside of the classroom, you had an incredible batting average on the baseball field and worked so hard on the football field. You earned your Tenderfoot rank in scouts and are well on your way to Second Class. You participated in Kids Club and always memorized all your verses and completed all your homework.
You love the outdoors and want to be in the military. A free spirit at heart. A boy who loves travel and adventure and discovery. Your eyes--still the most unique color I have ever, ever seen--are deep and wise even if you are telling dorky twelve year old boy jokes most of the time.
We're going to New York. You and me and Grandma. I promised you a trip at the end of sixth grade if you were respectful and kind and didn't turn into a raging preteen jerk. But then we sold puppies and had the money now. And so we're New York bound for this twelfth birthday of yours. We'll kick off your last year of elementary school and celebrate your eclectic self. You are excited to see the Statue of Liberty and your history loving side can't wait to go to Ellis Island and visit Hamilton's grave. But you're also excited to go to a Broadway show and wander Central Park. I'm so excited to spend a few days with just my one oldest son--making memories and seeing one of my most favorite cities through your eyes.
I love you. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I'd pay gypsies to take you, but they are not the norm. The reality is that I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world. You are such a very, very good egg. I love you. And if you ever, ever doubt that, I hope you will read these words and know that you were worth the wait. You were worth the tears and the fears and every moment that it took to finally hold you in my arms. I am so thankful that you made me a mama.
Always, all of my love,
Mom
We're two thirds of the way to eighteen. I can pretty clearly remember when you turned six and I realized that you were one third of the way to eighteen and I momentarily freaked out a little. Maybe it's because I have your tornado toddler of a brother now and in some ways it feels like I'll be actively parenting for the rest of my life, but I'm not lamenting this twelve quite like I lamented six. Perhaps I've just given up on trying to keep you little. Or, perhaps, I'm looking forward, in some warped and demented way, to watching you become a man.
The eye rolling, looking at me like I'm a complete moron, phase of our relationship has begun. I don't love that, not gonna lie. However, I know a lot of preteen boys and, I'm not kidding when I say that I wouldn't trade you for a single one of them. Oh some of them are great, to be sure. It's just that none of them are you.
There are more athletic boys in the world. There are smarter ones and more talented ones. I don't say that to be mean. I say it because you have enough ego strength to handle it. You always have. You may not be the best baseball player and you may not set the curve on the math test but you are incredibly well rounded. And you are respectful and kind. This summer, in particular, I have had several people tell me what an amazing kid you are. People who meet you for an hour or hang out with you for half a day and then send me glowing messages about your maturity and your manners.
I recently received a compliment on my parenting (BY THE GRACE OF GOD ALONE, KID). I was told that we are doing a great job--that we are stricter than most but that's okay. I suppose, as I look around me, that that's true. I'm sure you don't enjoy being the kid who has the "stricter than most" parents. I hope, though, that some day, you look back on your life and appreciate the rules and the boundaries. I hope you are grateful that we do not allow disrespect or entitlement. I hope that you can find peace and joy in the fact that we ask you to try to live like Jesus did and that we try (and oh how we fail) to show that to you by example. And I hope that, under all that weight of strict parenting, you know that I see you.
When we were recently in the Redwoods, I was speaking to a volunteer ranger. It was hard to keep you and your brothers quiet. Will, because he's a maniac. You and Matt because your voices and your countenance were alive with the mystery and majesty of those giants. For dad and me, we feel silenced by the awe of those woody sentinels. But for you, there was adventure in every moment. I apologized to the ranger. "We're trying to keep them quiet--" I couldn't finish my sentence. He interrupted me.
"Why?" he interjected. "They can be quiet when they're old!"
His statement rocked this boymom. I try to let you live, to watch you climb trees because they are God's gift to boys, to allow you to be loud and assertive, to be rogue in this society of screens and quiet whispers. But I still find myself apologizing for my boisterous boys. No more. God gave me larger than life, noisy boys--and He started by giving me you. And you, my dearest one, can be quiet and contained when you are old. (Except when your teacher is talking. Please also be quiet when your teacher is talking.)
You have made me so proud. This year alone, as I sat in our end of the year assembly and heard your beautiful name so many times. Making it to Regionals in the science fair--you just kept doing extra work to make it ready for the next level. You and your dad sat and sat and worked and worked and fixed and fixed that project until you took it as far as you could and got second place at the highest level. You finished the 40 book challenge. You participated in Monster Math. You took second place in the geography bee, losing only to a sixth grader.
Beyond your academic accolades, your teacher told me, on so many occasions in the faculty room, what an amazing friend you had been to someone that day. You served on student council after having to interview for the position. Outside of the classroom, you had an incredible batting average on the baseball field and worked so hard on the football field. You earned your Tenderfoot rank in scouts and are well on your way to Second Class. You participated in Kids Club and always memorized all your verses and completed all your homework.
You love the outdoors and want to be in the military. A free spirit at heart. A boy who loves travel and adventure and discovery. Your eyes--still the most unique color I have ever, ever seen--are deep and wise even if you are telling dorky twelve year old boy jokes most of the time.
We're going to New York. You and me and Grandma. I promised you a trip at the end of sixth grade if you were respectful and kind and didn't turn into a raging preteen jerk. But then we sold puppies and had the money now. And so we're New York bound for this twelfth birthday of yours. We'll kick off your last year of elementary school and celebrate your eclectic self. You are excited to see the Statue of Liberty and your history loving side can't wait to go to Ellis Island and visit Hamilton's grave. But you're also excited to go to a Broadway show and wander Central Park. I'm so excited to spend a few days with just my one oldest son--making memories and seeing one of my most favorite cities through your eyes.
I love you. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I'd pay gypsies to take you, but they are not the norm. The reality is that I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world. You are such a very, very good egg. I love you. And if you ever, ever doubt that, I hope you will read these words and know that you were worth the wait. You were worth the tears and the fears and every moment that it took to finally hold you in my arms. I am so thankful that you made me a mama.
Always, all of my love,
Mom
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Interview with a 12 Year Old
1. What is your favorite T.V. Show? NCIS.
2. What did you have for breakfast? Eggos.
3. What do you want to name your future son? Troy.
4. Favorite Food? Snow crab (Same as last year and the year before that and the year before that.)
5. What food do you dislike? Sushi.
6. What is your favorite color? Brown. (Some things never change. It's been brown forever. He calls it, "a good, solid color.")
7. Favorite lunch? Pizza.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Go camping. (Last year he said, "Go on cruises." His taste has cheapened in his old age.)
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? A cruise to Cuba.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? I like the name Emily. (Last year he said, "Lori." I'm glad that ship sailed. I don't hate my name but it's a little dated. Emily though. Emily is timeless. I could absolutely get on board with an Emily.)
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Either.
13. Pets? Hamster, dog, and cat.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Baby Declan. (His cousin had a baby. We met him on Thursday. He's adorable.)
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A pilot in the Airforce.
16. What is your favorite candy? 3 Musketeers.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Israel. That will never change.
18. What is your favorite book? My favorite series right now is Rings of Fire.
19. What are you most proud of? I'm proud of learning how to surf.
20. What is your favorite movie? The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The chicken.
And, for fun, I asked him the same questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.
1. What is your favorite word? Probably the. I also like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. (Ha ha. Bit of a difference between those two words but okay.)
2. What is your least favorite word? Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Ef you badness badness after that. (Okay. So, the F word.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Fishing and camping.
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") I don't like getting sick.
5. What sound or noise do you love? I like air raid siren.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? Styrofoam.
3. What do you want to name your future son? Troy.
4. Favorite Food? Snow crab (Same as last year and the year before that and the year before that.)
5. What food do you dislike? Sushi.
6. What is your favorite color? Brown. (Some things never change. It's been brown forever. He calls it, "a good, solid color.")
7. Favorite lunch? Pizza.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Go camping. (Last year he said, "Go on cruises." His taste has cheapened in his old age.)
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? A cruise to Cuba.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? I like the name Emily. (Last year he said, "Lori." I'm glad that ship sailed. I don't hate my name but it's a little dated. Emily though. Emily is timeless. I could absolutely get on board with an Emily.)
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Either.
13. Pets? Hamster, dog, and cat.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Baby Declan. (His cousin had a baby. We met him on Thursday. He's adorable.)
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A pilot in the Airforce.
16. What is your favorite candy? 3 Musketeers.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Israel. That will never change.
18. What is your favorite book? My favorite series right now is Rings of Fire.
19. What are you most proud of? I'm proud of learning how to surf.
20. What is your favorite movie? The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The chicken.
And, for fun, I asked him the same questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.
1. What is your favorite word? Probably the. I also like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. (Ha ha. Bit of a difference between those two words but okay.)
2. What is your least favorite word? Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Ef you badness badness after that. (Okay. So, the F word.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Fishing and camping.
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") I don't like getting sick.
5. What sound or noise do you love? I like air raid siren.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? Styrofoam.
7. What is your favorite curse word? Crap.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? A Navy SEAL.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Plumber.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? A Navy SEAL.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Plumber.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? (I omitted the "If Heaven exists" part)? Hello.
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Home
When I was nine, my family went on a three week vacation through National Parks and into Canada. Then we came down through Washington, Oregon and California, finally reaching home in San Diego county.
When we arrive home on Saturday, we'll have been gone for 20 days. What an adventure we've had! Still, there is no place like Home, wherever that happens to be. Even ten years later, my hometown still feels like home. But Home is where my stuff is. Home is where my family lives and breathes and does the majority of our life.
I'm so thankful to have married a man who values vacation. And not just vacation to a place an hour or two away but real adventure where we see the world and spend long hours in the car. I'm thankful we share the same ideas on that. But oh boy, will I be glad to have more than five shirts to rotate through. I'm pretty ready to not be living out of a suitcase and trying to keep my toddler from destroying everyone's house.
I wonder if there was a time on our trip when I was kid when my mom said, "Hey. I'm ready to get on home now."
We've had a great time hanging out with family, seeing the Redwoods, exploring the northern California coast, driving on roads we've never been on before. Our kids saw San Francisco and Coos Bay, lighthouses and wildlife. They saw each of their 10 cousins. It has been good.
We're still going to hang with family, visit some friends, and celebrate Garrett's 12th birthday in Boise, on our way home.
But Home is waiting on Saturday and I'm thankful.
When we arrive home on Saturday, we'll have been gone for 20 days. What an adventure we've had! Still, there is no place like Home, wherever that happens to be. Even ten years later, my hometown still feels like home. But Home is where my stuff is. Home is where my family lives and breathes and does the majority of our life.
I'm so thankful to have married a man who values vacation. And not just vacation to a place an hour or two away but real adventure where we see the world and spend long hours in the car. I'm thankful we share the same ideas on that. But oh boy, will I be glad to have more than five shirts to rotate through. I'm pretty ready to not be living out of a suitcase and trying to keep my toddler from destroying everyone's house.
I wonder if there was a time on our trip when I was kid when my mom said, "Hey. I'm ready to get on home now."
We've had a great time hanging out with family, seeing the Redwoods, exploring the northern California coast, driving on roads we've never been on before. Our kids saw San Francisco and Coos Bay, lighthouses and wildlife. They saw each of their 10 cousins. It has been good.
We're still going to hang with family, visit some friends, and celebrate Garrett's 12th birthday in Boise, on our way home.
But Home is waiting on Saturday and I'm thankful.
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